


A Circle of Light Cast on Snow

by Gray_Days



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-11
Updated: 2013-08-11
Packaged: 2017-12-23 03:06:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/921272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gray_Days/pseuds/Gray_Days
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matchsticks always has a light.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Circle of Light Cast on Snow

Matchsticks always has a light. That's something Snowman learns early on, and something she finds convenient, even enjoyable. Crowbar starts carrying a lighter on him everywhere after he learns that she smokes and that she likes for other people to light her cigarettes, but Matchsticks beats him to it more than half the time, a match or a brass-plated lighter between his fingers and in front of her before Crowbar's even managed to dig his out. There's no big production to it, no theatricality or scraping. Matchsticks just always has a flame on him somewhere, and when she needs it, it's there waiting.

She learns that he smokes, too, thick dark cigars with a scent of oiled antique leather and, faintly, burnt rubber. She discovers this when she finds him methodically driving the lit end of one into a man's eye while he screams and writhes in Matchsticks' grip.

"Is that really necessary?" she asks mildly, her own cigarette holder dangling in its loose grip. She never thought him a man given to wanton or needless violence, but it's always best to ask.

Matchsticks drops the man sobbing and whimpering brokenly to the ground. "He insulted you," he replies plainly, and it's clear that's all the reason he needs. "He won't do it again, and anyone else who sees him will think twice before doing the same."

He doesn't say what the man said. Both of them know what kinds of things people say about the ex-queen of Derse who became the only female gangster in a group of fifteen after being deposed by a pawn with a chip the size of a battleship on his shoulder.

"That's very sweet," she says. She means it. It's nice having someone who will maim to defend her honour, and it's been a long time since she's been treated like a queen. "Does Crowbar know?"

It's half a joke, but for the first time she sees a flicker of some kind of emotion in his face; though it's subtle, she's gotten fairly decent at reading the small cues in his expression, but she suddenly realises she still has a great deal to learn. "He'll live," says Matchsticks. "Eventually."

Snowman recognises that there's a precipice in front of her, a yawning conversational chasm of context that she has no familiarity with, and she backs away to safer subjects. "Well, thank you, in any case. Please feel free to continue defending me whenever and however you see fit." He's one of the few men she doesn't have to bend down to kiss, and she does, taking his cheek in one hand and pressing a chaste kiss to his forehead. She feels his eyebrows twitch almost imperceptibly under her lips before she pulls away.

"Do you think the rest of the boys are still inside?" she asks, turning back to the casino. Matchsticks offers her his arm automatically, and she takes it. 

"If they aren't, I'll kill them," he says. She can't tell from his expression or tone of voice whether he's joking. She assumes he is.

"Leave something behind, at least. Doc Scratch will be annoyed if he has to replace everyone already, so early on in the game."

He grunts, which she takes as good enough, and she pushes open the casino door and lets the glittering wash of light and sound overtake her.


End file.
